Under My Skin
by faith4ever131
Summary: All you know of me is a mask. A mask which I put on so I can be one of you. I swore I'd never take off that mask with people like you around... Unless you aren't lucky.
1. Chapter 1

As I walked through the ally my footsteps echoed through the ally. I told the boys I needed some air... a half truth. I can't seem to get it out out my through the minutes, hours. I owe myself a few passionate, artistic, moments. I can feel the crawling ache beneath my skin, it's like a flaming itch or leach on your body. You need to put out the fire, pull off the leach.

I hold my cane behind my head as a strong man would do with his weights and call it a neck press. I'm searching, but they won't know it. I'm forced to attempt to quell the primal feeling swelling in my very loins. My head throbs in a desperate pleading to simply let myself go, but I can't let myself out yet.

A smile tugs at the end of my lips.

"Hello there miss." I said, my voice was in a bit of that sing song tone.

The desperate throbs is like a whimpering plea now. All it want, I still can't give. I can feel the cold metal against the skin of my leg now. Almost time... Just another moment.

The girl turned. She has flaxen hair and eyes which are the color of a raging storm (like mine), or at least thats what it looked like from my distance.

"You look a bit lost. It isn't always safe around most of New York late at night." I told her.

I know I'm practically teasing myself.

"Oh thank you..." She seems a bit surprised by my kindness. "Actually no, but that was a very sweet, gentlemanly act."

"It's not a problem."

I feel my heart sink a bit, but my chances are still there. She gave me a smile and nod, than she turned and began tp walk.

"Hey," I call. She turns back to me. "you wouldn't mind if I came with you, right? I've got somewhere to go and a little company would be nice." I give her one of those friendly, awkward shrugs.

"Certainly." She said without a single modicum of hesitation, that tells me she isn't from around here.

"Thank you."

I let my cane fall from behind my neck and let it fall to my sides.

We walked in silence for some time, I was simply looking at where we were going, the routs and all that. I knew all of them of corse. I was just waiting for the perfect second and perfect place.

Closer to her I could see her hair was defiantly the color I expected, a blond mixed with shades of a caramel. Her eyes were that blue, grey. Her cloths weren't rags, but she wasn't a rich girl either.

"You'd like to know my name wouldn't you?" The girl asked.

"Well it would be nice to know."

"Joyce Kingston, and yourself?"

"James Conlon, my friends call me Spot though."

Her lips turned up into a smile, "You don't look like much of a Spot to me."

"Childhood nickname." I explained. "It just stuck around to long."

She laughed lightly. It was a quiet night, I'd made sure of that. I couldn't help but clench and unclench my hands in excitement, my pulse was rapid... We were extremely close to the docks. I smirked... I was so close.

We walked into a lonely ally, set apart from most of the others. I know it's my time. I wrapped my hand around the handle of my blade. I let her walk in front of me. I slow my walking .

Suddenly my arms are around her and the blade is to her throat.

"Sh... Not a sound." I whisper.

* * *

I smile at the, I'd felt like a man who'd just been released from a fifty year prison sentence. Shedding my shell of for just a few minutes of obscene, artistic glory.

As I enter the empty boarding house I'm careful to leave no remnants of the happenings of that night. I washed the drying blood from my hair and my body. I take off the blood soaked cloths, which I'll dispose of tomorrow. I take one of the boys shirts from under their bed, they don't have any choice in the matter. I scrub off my shoes. Than out the window the shirt goes.

It is simple now. Once I've finished I put on my my mask of normality. I sat in the chair by the window which goes out to the fire escape. the I sighed, there was the obvious end to it all for the night. No joy, no artistic beauty... The end. For tonight it is the end.

The door opened and I held up a two fingers of my acknowledgment.

"Conlon, what are you doing inside?" I heard.

I turned, "_Busy._"

Ax stands, seemingly waiting for me. She pushes her red hair back from her eyes.

"Boys sent me, they want you."

"Mh-hm. I'm busy." I said uninterested.

"Oh..." She came closer, leaning against my seat. "I see."

I rolled my eyes and released an irritated sigh.

"I'm not in the mood," I motion towards the door. "out."

She scowls and hisses, "You've got a room, go yourself."

She leans close to me smirking with a repugnant smite. Her face is too close to mine. I feel my urge again, this time originating from my swelling hatred. A smile cracks across her face and a light laugh escaped her lips.

"Go on, Conlon," She smirked. "scare me like one of your boys."

I looked out of the window.

"Why don't you be useful and go screw one of my boys?" I murmured.

She pushed me in the chair. I smiled, she'd be leaving now.

"Fuck, Conlon, you're such a tease."

She'd be leaving, unless I could play a little longer. She shoved me and began to walk away.

"I'm a tease? So that's what you came for?"

I stood and leaned against one of the boys beds, smirking.

She turned back briefly and hissed again fleeing the room.

"I thought for a minute you were taking my advice for once." I shouted.

I glower and add under my breath, "You did't need to follow it, you already did it, bitch."


	2. Chapter 2

I smile down at the morning paper, which I hold in my hands.

"It's beautiful, good sales today." I announced.

I'm proud of my own work, more than ever, now that it's printed.

I'm shocked by the lack of ache, now that I'd seen it printed. I usually let the bodies decay while in the water. They won't find me though, because tomorrow it will not even be cared about. The supposed "investigation" mentioned doesn't exist.

"Spot?" I heard.

I let out a instinctual, "Hm?"

Red stood behind, restlessly twitching and fidgeting as he so often did. He was a newer recruit. I didn't hate the boy, he'd last for a while. He was an extremely nervous boy, always stumbling over his words and such. He has a bad habit of never looking you in the eye, which has never shown as brightly as now.

"I was just... I was wondering. You've been going out for the last couple of night and I wanted to know if you were okay." He said. Even though he'd made a statement the end of his sentence his voice raised as if he were asking a question.

"Yeah," I smiled patting his shoulder. "don't worry about it. We've got more important things to worry about, other than me."

He nodded his head a tad bit longer than needed. With that I hurried off with the bundle of newspapers beneath my right arm.

Coney is always the best place to sell, crowded, people in a hurry, so on and so forth. I suppose it's just an area that gets passed on through Brooklyn leaders. All the rest of Brooklyn is looks to be exactly like the opposite of the smog and foil smell of vomit that emanates from the "great" city of Manhattan. Brooklyn (in most parts) is a suburbia, not exactly a farmland as Richmond is just across the bay.

My papers sell quickly. I feel a twinge of pride from my act. I couldn't help but feel this. My indulgence always end up giving me some pride. I know there should be some sort of lesson from karma. I "deserve" a sick hell, a twisted inferno. To that I will snicker.

I walk away from the crowded street. My thoughts return to my bliss. The arousal of my thoughts were from a young looking girl who reminded me of Ax walks by. I feel a sudden urge to brutalize her in more ways than one. I hold my breath for that tempting moment as she goes by. I clench and unclench my fists. I smirk slightly. A little bit longer and then it'll happen.

I walked to my boarding house. That pounding in my head... I rubbed the back of my head. The boarding house was just a moment away. That feeling was nearly gone, but still there, pleading, desperately.

The old place was rotting from the outside, it was made worse from the vandalism done by my boys and the ones before them. The inside was covered in a sheet of dust. The entire building was desperate for maintenance. Inside floor boards cracked, banisters were broken, most beds had simply fallen apart now there are a lot of mattresses on the floor and cots everywhere. The smaller boys were swinging and flipping. The boys threw the papers and anything they could find.

"Boys!" I snarl.

They all turned to me, innocent faces staring up at mine.

"Out!" I scream.

The boys seem a bit shocked. Eyes locked on mine with a look of innocent fear. I sigh, attempting calming myself, "I'm sorry, I've lost temper." They all look as if they are still soaking in the situation. I'd placed that charismatic mask on again, even if it had been done sloppily. I'm lucky to catch myself unraveling so quickly.

"Boys go out and play, clean this up when you come back."

The boys ran for the door. I felt that feeling, the feeling where your limbs and organs are being slashed and stomped and bitten. I ran upstairs in a childlike manor. I ran into my room, just down the hall. I slammed the door. My mind was a tunnel, blocking out all other things. I grabbed the draw then took the book I smiled lightly. My head and my body throbbed. I opened to a random page sketching all I'd wanted for that day and all the rest of those insignificant maggots; a pile of all of the beautiful bliss, all of the violence and it was so perfect...

I draw whatever seems right at the moment. I'm not saying I'm an artist, just a human looking for some modicum of relief. My drawings are simply sketches in which my inner most thoughts are thrusted out onto the page. You can at least make out the events in the drawings, it would be pretty pointless if you couldn't.

I've always heard people say death is melancholy. I've heard that it is so depressing it makes one cationic. Some fear it completely. I've fainted a few times in my youth. I'd always thought that it was like that, you don't even know you're gone. That is why dying is so blissful, everything if just sort of gone. Isn't what I'm doing (if I am correct in my assumption of death) a positive action? Aren't I relieving the one who I set my sights on and use to relieve myself as well? No more worries or troubles. It isn't even black really when you go, just nothing. _Nothing at all. _No colors or thoughts. No burning memories or past. Worries are gone and you don't need to care. That thought brings a bit of a smile to my lips.

I told someone once and they told me, "That's sick and you're sick! Where do you get these kinds of thoughts James? They frighten me." I shrugged indifferent. I didn't care because one day that person would die, one day I'll die, one day you'll die. Even if I do "burn in hell", it I lived, didn't I?


End file.
